


Memories

by CiderWriter (orphan_account)



Series: Christmas [9]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Christmas Fluff, Erik is a Sweetheart, Gay Mutant Road Trip, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CiderWriter
Summary: DAY 11 of ChristmasErik remembers his home, and Charles interrupts as though it had been a thought process he had every right to.





	

The scenery, Erik thought, was nothing. Nothing compared to the Germany he remembered from his youth. The sweeping countryside covered in snow, and the chill in his toes as he ran with the other children. The memory of it was everything, and he didn’t need Charles to know that. He felt it all as if it were yesterday.

“It sounds beautiful, Erik. I hope to go one day.”

Erik tutted, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He doubted he’d ever get used to having Charles rattling around in his head, even if it no longer surprised him when Charles picked up a conversation he’d previously only been having with himself.

“I haven’t been back in a long time, and I have no intention of either. That should stay in the past. If I were to go back, nothing would seem quite as good as I remember it.”

“Ha.” Charles let out a breathy laugh, derision lacing his tone. It was an ugly sound and one Erik couldn’t quite reconcile with the man he’d come to reluctantly consider a friend. “I’m afraid I have to disagree there.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Erik replied. Frankly, it was a rare occasion when he and Charles did agree on something. And yet the younger man was so certain that they were compatible as friends. It was barbaric. “Go on then, Charles, I’ll indulge you. Why aren’t memories better than the reality of the past.”

“Simple. We only ever remember the extremes. You remember your pre-war childhood to be wonderful and free. You remember the wind and the snow and the warmth of your house when you got back from playing with your friends. I know those feelings to be true, Erik, and just because you can’t recapture them doesn’t mean you can’t remember them. You should go home and even if everything had changed, it’s still the same air that hit your cheeks when you were a child. Still the same ground that you stood on and felt the frost crunching beneath your feet.”

“Ever the idealist, Charles.” Erik sighed. “Very well. One day, I will go back. If only to prove you wrong for once.”


End file.
